a matter of perspective
by the alphabet soup
Summary: The guillotine looks particularly beautiful this time of day. Five and Nine centric


**Disclaimer:** I don't own Lorien Legacies.

**Title:** a matter of perspective

**Summary:** The guillotine looks particularly beautiful this time of day.

* * *

i.

Nine's hands are made of red thread which, by some horrid coincidence, match Eight's red woven torso which, by utter miscommunication, have loose strands tied neatly across Five's knuckles.

A wrinkled, skeletal hand holding an unforgiving pair of scissors snips the thread connecting Eight from the two, and the boy's life falls somewhere between the edge of paradise and hell. Until someone thinks of a destination for them to go, he will be waiting for an eternity of peace that will never come.

After the line severs, it knots itself again so Nine and Five are once again connected by fate. But the strain is too much for the fragile piece of thread; one day it is fated to snap.

.

ii.

Five's fingers brush the eye patch - black, just a simple thing which he had to find himself - as his eye stares at the reflection of the boy in the mirror. His skin takes on a pallor which is neither from the death of the shapeshifting boy nor the look on the girl's frozen face.

(The lies will sink in eventually. They _will_.)

His hair has grown from the weeks - or have months passed, he cannot be sure in this room too small separated from the others with blood and hyperbole - which were spent recuperating from his injures. He walks with a limp and he never stands quite straight anymore, and his tongue feels too big in his mouth.

(He won't admit to himself that the little boy is terrified.)

.

iii.

Nine's lips are cracked and bleeding; his arms are too tired. He pushes the hair from his eyes - It's disgusting, but he's rejected any comment to get it cut. They don't have the time for mundane things like that. - and his fists collide with the homemade punching bag again, and again, and again.

Neither Six nor Marina tell him to stop because they're doing their own preparation. Sometimes he's aware enough to feel the coldness sink into his skin, but most of the time he skips meals because he hasn't trained enough.

The taste of iron reaches his mouth, so finally he stops and wipes the blood from his lips with the back of his hand. The smear of red is like a battle wound, and he takes the injury with pride.

(He continues again and only stops when Six takes the punching bag away from his reach and forces him to eat. He does, but only when he imagines the warpath he might create in the weeks to come.)

.

iv.

If Five could, he would bring Rey back to life.

He would bring Eight back, too, just to make sure he worms his way into heaven. Or, at least, that's what he tells himself when the night comes and his thoughts become too large for his mind to grasp.

The guilt always comes back to him the moment he is most vulnerable. He could shove it into the back corner of his mind where he holds thoughts which haven't seen the light is years, but the guilt will always come rushing back.

He tells himself it's Nine's fault. (But it isn't.)

He tells himself he had no choice. (But he always did.)

Sometimes, though, when his reflection is too painful to look at and he refuses to stand because he'll be reminded of how broken he is, he realizes that he's afraid.

And he tries not to tell the others know that, but they always seem to know when he lies.

.

v.

Nine doesn't sleep much anymore. He thinks it's because of the irrational fear because none of them sleep much anymore, but he quickly realizes it is because of the thoughts which attack him.

Eight is a weight in his mind and his own last words cut the rope holding it. Guilt is not his forte, but his mind feels so empty without it.

(He doesn't lie to himself. Rather, he ignores the truth.)

The other two notice this but they don't delve into hypocrisy and comment. They've all changed, but it will take him too long to see it. When he does acknowledge, he doesn't want to know how he'll react.

(So he fights. It is, after all, his only relief.)

.

vi.

Nine steps up to Five - the boy whose hair is growing too long and whose skin isn't quite clear - first. The dagger gleams in his hand and his lips form a smile too big for his face, but he does not back down. This is, finally, a wish which has been granted to him.

Five steps up a few minutes after the other boy - his eyes cannot be deciphered and his stance is too stiff - , but the blade which he brings is dull and caked with grim. Still, he approaches, because pride has to be his downfall someday.

The red thread glows from where it is wrapped around their hands, but the way it is cut is unknown to both of them.


End file.
